


Lost in the Wild

by sycamoretree



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Abandonment, Humor, M/M, Sexual Humor, Wilderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:36:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sycamoretree/pseuds/sycamoretree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for prompt on the LJ Hobbit kink meme: Peter Jackson had enough of the actors' attitude so he dropped them in the middle of a New Zealand forest to teach them a lesson á la Tropic Thunder. And the only thing they brought with them, aside from their costumes and props, was one bag each, filled with ''necessities.'' Thus, the actors face a new kind of adventure, where some people embrace "method acting" while others complain, and Martin just hates them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Basic survival, holiday, and James' bottles

“Where are we going?” Stephen Hunter asked while rubbing his face.

Martin Freeman answered him with a loud voice to get heard over the noise of the helicopter, “Location introduction. Peter insisted we see it from above to get into the right mood for some reason. Am I right, Richard?”

“Hmm?” Richard Armitage mumbled absently and kept looking intensely out the window of the helicopter, no doubt lost in thoughts on how Thorin would have viewed the forestry scenery, planning on how to act on that feeling in front of the camera later.

The dwarf cast was to shoot the scenes when they enter the forest of Mirkwood, right after Beorn’s house, so the green, rich landscape beneath them seemed perfect. For some reason, Peter Jackson had ordered all the dwarves and their costumes and basic gear in bags, into one large transport, and the crew would come in another one behind them. Martin supposed Peter wanted to film some crude sequences of them in the forest, check the light in the surroundings, and just introduce the place to them.

Jed Brophy, ever trusting his instincts above all, wondered aloud, “But why did he instruct each of us to bring a bag with personal necessities?”

James Nesbitt flipped one pocket open on his sports bag and pulled out a minibar-sized bottle of something alcoholic, noticed the others staring at him disapprovingly, and shrugged indifferently while unscrewing the top. “What? It’s a flight, and that means you can order drinks, but since we don’t have a lovely woman or man in a fetching uniform pushing a trolley, I have to provide them for myself.”

“Technically we’re working. Getting salary and all,” Mark Hadlow informed him and James rolled his eyes and grumbled as he put away the flask, but not before he had taken a rather generous swig from it.

Orlando Bloom (who had hitched a ride; completely wasting space, weight, and time for he would not be in the scene, but he claimed to be there to record material for Peter’s funny behind-the-scene documentary) sniggered and pointed at something on the ground far below. “Look, I think it’s Sean Bean still trying to climb the mountain.”

Martin immediately brightened at the joke and exclaimed while making his infamous kung fu move on Aidan Turner, “Fucking drive by on the Bean bitch!”

Aidan yelped and massaged his now tender arm while inching as much as the seat belt would allow closer to a drooling Dean O’Gorman who slept through the exciting trip like a bored passenger in a car that was stuck in traffic jam.

***

As it turned out after they had landed in a clearing, enjoying the sun, Peter was not present to greet them. In fact; no crew or cameras or technicians were there preparing the work.

Only an ominous black bag and a satellite phone could be seen on a rock in the clearing, and the group of men moved towards it as their hair waved violently from the departing helicopter.

Graham McTavish stepped forward and turned on the phone with a hesitant expression. A scratchy noise, and then the voice of their boss sounded.

“Hello? Guys, are you there?”

Graham grimaced and held the phone far away from his abused ear. Richard was the formal one who immediately spoke to his director with respect.

“Yes, sir. But where are you, and the crew?”

“They won’t be coming.”

A few seconds of absolute silence followed before Richard tilted his head and smiled. “Sorry, what was that?”

Peter huffed and explained as if talking to children, “I mean that we won’t be joining you out there. It was just my intention to get you to believe we had chosen the location for a scene, so that I could finally have a valid reason to transport all of you to the forest.“

Richard showed a bit of the terrifying Armitage rage when he addressed Peter, the boss he usually admired and wanted to please. “What is this, Peter?”

“I realized I needed a break from you guys, no offense. And you need to improve on working as a group because I’ve had it with your pranks and bickering behind and in front of the camera. So I figured I should invent _enforced holiday_ when the boss gets to decide the terms for the free time. You will spend some time out there for as long as I see fit, or until someone gets himself seriously hurt. Don’t worry though; the area is pretty harmless and a helicopter on full speed can get there in twenty minutes. There’s a an emergency kit in the black bag in case something bad happens, God forbid, and there’s also a high-tech GPS sender that will give us constant updates on your coordinates but I suppose you’ll want to stay in the area and not wander off too far." Peter paused for a moment to take a deep breath before he continued. 

"There is a map, too. Richard will be in charge of that, because he’s the most responsible one amongst you, and I trust him. There’s water bottles too, so you won’t die the first days, if I choose to not pick you up sooner. We will listen in on the phone now and then to hear that everything is alright, but I have people sworn to secrecy who will man the supervising 24/7, so you’re perfectly safe. Have fun, my little bastards!”

The phone went silent, and the shell-shocked actors couldn’t believe at first that Peter had hung up on them. Then his message really hit them.

The first reaction came from Orlando who went for denial.

His lips trembled and he looked utterly crushed. “But I’m not supposed to be here! I can work in groups. Peter knows that since Lord of the Rings. And I think my contract says I’m insured against kidnappings,” he exclaimed.

James lamented, without acknowledging the Elf’s anguish, “Someone will miss me. I have fans, you know, who keep track on what I’m up to and if they don’t get their hands on a new photo within a few days, they’re going to sound the alarm.”

John Callen commented with a tilt of his head, “I’m pretty sure that sounds like stalkers and not fans, Jimmy.”

Martin clenched his small fists and everyone gasped and took a few steps back as he blew off some steam. “I’ll fucking sue Jackson until he has to live in a fucking human-scale hobbit hole, forever crawling from room to room and… Will you stop filming, Orlando!”

Orlando lowered his camera with a hurt look.

***

After recovering somewhat from the shock of being dumped in the middle of nowhere, their survival depending solely on themselves, the practical men began lowering their individual bags to their feet.

Stephen sighed and made a sweeping wave with his hand over the bags.

“Okay, everybody empty your bags. We all depend on solidarity now, so no embarrassment, just put it in a heap and we’ll share what we have.”

Gloomily, the actors started to unpack and surrender their belongings which they regretted having brought now.

They got:

1\. A fluffy pillow for Adam Brown’s sensitive neck;

2\. a pair of sun glasses from Stephen who had been in a hurry and only grabbed them before rushing to the helicopter;

3\. chocolate bars and tea bags from Mark Hadlow;

4\. rainwear and another casual outfit, including clean boxers and socks from Orlando that they decided to share brotherly, and then proceeded to fight viciously over;

5\. bananas in Martin’s bag;

6\. a flashlight, Swiss army knife, and some cookies which had been meant to come in handy in case of an emergency on set, according to Graham;

7\. a copy of David Copperfield that William Kircher enjoyed reading in-between work or before he went to sleep; 

8\. a deck of cards from Jed;

9\. a note pad with attached pen from Ken Stott;

10\. Dean’s toothbrush, hair gel, and aftershave (the group only confiscated the aftershave, because they imagined how they would all smell after some time without showers);

11\. Peter Hambleton’s breakfast vitamins and umbrella;

12\. Richard’s sun lotion and a resistance band (which he explained was there because he liked to stay in shape);

13\. John's plaid blanket with broided flowers along the edges;

14\. James’ bottles of liquor that everyone suddenly seemed to appreciate a great deal, plus the Irishman’s warmer sweater and a picture of his family which a frazzled Ken pointed out was totally useless here, to which James answered by almost punching him and everyone had to stop the fight and remind them that things that kept up the morale could be just as useful as physical survival gear.

Then the mood lightened somewhat because a long string of condoms accidently ended up being donated anonymously to the heap of things and everyone began to squirm and blush.

“Someone’s hoping to get lucky,” John coughed and Peter added, “Good to know someone’s playing it safe.”

Dean pitched in, “In a worst case scenario, we can always suck on them and get some strawberry flavor.”

Graham patted him on the shoulder and nodded. “You do that, O’Gorman, and the rest of us can drink James’ booze.”

15\. Then came Aidan’s bag which seemed to contain a lot of things for it rattled and everyone became expectant as Graham hauled it into the heap of things that the actors surrounded, and Peter opened it and held it upside down to empty it.

Heavy, bright plastic bags fell onto the ground and everyone recognized the logo. Aidan's bag was loaded with skittles as if he’d been afraid the company would stop making them.

“Really, Turner? The most important thing in your necessities?” William Kircher uttered dubiously and squeezed one purple bag.

“I like sweets. And I like it when they turn my tongue into different colours,” the younger actor admitted sheepishly with blushing cheeks.

Martin Freeman muttered ominously with lowered brows, “I can turn your bloody body into different colours.”

The Irishman’s curls bobbed when he ducked his head down and literally shrank to not attract the Freeman Rage.

Richard uttered with amaze and a playful smile on his lips, “There must be at least ten kg worth of Skittles here.”

Sure, the group was slightly disturbed by Aidan’s priorities and seemingly addiction to the candy, but they didn’t protest much against the thing that could be classified as food.

***

After they had brotherly shared the measly provisions and gathered their costume bags and personal bags in one large heap in the clearing, their thoughts inevitably turned to survival know-how.

“So, anyone got any experience on survival from any movies?” Adam Brown wondered while wrenching his hands.

Aidan muttered, “I sure regret doing all those urban movies now.”

“At least you looked good while doing them,” Dean comforted him with.

But then John Callen called out and pointed at a squirming Richard who smiled uncertainly. “Richard’s been in Strike back. He was ace in that role! Survived everything they threw at him.”

But Martin grumbled, “Unfortunately, that show was all about showing 1001 ways to die, not ways to survive. It was sheer dumb luck that kept Richie alive.”

Before Richard could defend himself, or John Porter for that matter, James helpfully added, “Oh, but Richard knows how to hide stuff in his anus. Got anything useful up there, Richie?”

“Now that’s a bit crude,” Richard frowned and sent a glowering look at James. With their frail souls; having the bruised egos of actors, the group inevitably began quarrelling about their lack of useful information until they were interrupted by someone breaking a dry stick and everyone turned towards the source of the noise.

Graham leaned comfortably against a tree and placed the two shorter sticks on top of a neat heap of similar wood at his feet. Without halting his move to pick up another stick nearby and bend it until it snapped, Graham commented swiftly, “If you need to fight internally, do it while doing something useful. We need firewood for warmth, and we need to make the most of the daylight while it lasts. Someone should look for a safe place where we can build a temporary shelter should we not get picked up by the helicopter today. And another crew needs to find large, solid, preferably smooth logs and dig holes behind them to make latrines. I for one prefer organized, albeit stinking shitting locations rather than the risk of stepping in something in the bush. Are you with me?”

Graham glanced up and upon noticing how everybody’s jaws had dropped, the seasoned actor remarked dryly, “I was in Rambo.”

While the actors spread out and began performing the necessary actions Graham had given them instructions on, Dean approached Richard who was helping with building the shelter against a boulder and the young man waved a thumb over his shoulder, towards a laughing Aidan that shook from mirth as he was sitting slumped on a log.

Dean muttered with a hard notch in his voice, “I think Aidan is having a melt-down.”

Richard dropped what he had in his hands and marched over there instantly in three strides and crouched down on his haunches in front of the Irishman who wiped tears from his eyes and exclaimed through a hoarse, giggling voice, “We’re all going to die.”

It seemed their vulnerability had just hit him.

“No-one is dying, Aidan,” Richard assured firmly and reached for the younger actor’s hands and rubbed circles in them. “Can you take a deep breath for me, Aid? Just inhale slowly. You’ll feel better,” he instructed and Aidan obeyed, though with a shaky breath.

Richard smiled at him and nudged his chin up. “Good boy.”

“Am a man; not a boy,” Aidan protested weakly and Richard shook his head.

“Stubborn even in your despair, my nephew. But I am older and I regard it as my responsibility to protect you through this unexpected turn of events. You can trust me when I say that everything will be fine.”

Aidan widened his eyes, but seemed to go with the flow, letting the comfort Kili would feel at Thorin’s reassuring presence wash over him and calm his nerves.

“Thanks,” he whispered and Richard brushed a hand through Aidan’s unruly curls. Meanwhile, Dean had removed his jacket and swept it around his friend, like a blanket.

“Dean, you’re not going anywhere, are you?” Aidan asked in a small, but definitely more controlled tone, and Dean reached out to rub his back while Richard placed Aidan’s hands between his thighs to keep them warm.

“I’m right here. I’m not leaving you,” Dean promised.

“Good,” Aidan sniffled.

***

The night fell quickly in the absence of lamps and lights and the cast gathered in a semi-circle around the warm fire they had managed to get going, not forcing anyone to sit on logs against the direction of the wind and inhale smoke.

Richard had generously spread Thorin’s furred coat over Dean and Aidan’s hunched forms.

Everyone had already furnished their temporary shelter with their costumes that would hopefully keep them warm throughout the night. Jed commented on the new use of their dwarf garments.

“Costume department will kill us for treating our outfits like this,” he remarked but Graham replied, “Natural dirtying of the clothes for once, I guess. They are furs, and wool, and leather: natural material that can handle dirt. And the many layers, not to mention our fat-suits, should isolate our bodies well, so be grateful about them.”

The flames cast a flickering light over the sorry group that had had no dinner except water, a few drops from James’ precious bottles, and skittles.

Exhausted, the group went to bed early. But finding sleep in their unfamiliar environment proved difficult.

Richard remained awake watching the fire burn down, radiating peace. When he heard Dean shift restlessly on the ground several hours later, clearly not sleeping, just tossing and turning hour after hour, he slid from the log he had been sitting on and laid down behind the man, gathering his form against him despite the initial tension in Dean’s limbs.

“It’s a long day tomorrow, Dean. Can’t you sleep?” the elder actor mumbled quietly and felt soft hair from the back of Dean’s head tickle his cheek as Dean shook his head.

Richard sighed and tightened his hold on the man before leaning closer to his ear. He began humming a slower, wordless version of Misty Mountains, imagining how Thorin would use the song as a lullaby for his boisterous nephews when he put them to bed.

A small, pitiful noise escaped Dean and he pressed himself further into Richard’s spooning body, searching for comfort and Richard kept humming, sending hot air gushing over the exposed ear of the blonde man.

At length, he felt Dean relax in his arms, and saw his chest rise and fall in a slower rhythm, indicating that he was asleep. Only then did Richard let his tune die out and laid down beside Dean to let sleep wash over himself, but not without keeping one arm over Dean’s shoulder and chest; ensuring he stay close, safe, and warm throughout the night.

TBC


	2. Map, incident, and the method actor

Next morning was a gloomy affair with a sad excuse for a breakfast consisting of bananas and suddenly everyone praised and longed for the tasty but sometimes repetitive food found in the canteen at the production site.

They also missed their toothpaste, moisturizers, and morning showers, so everyone was a bit down and irritable. Except the active kids; Aidan, Adam, and Dean who made some condoms into balloons and tossed them between each other like volley balls.

Some of the elder actors, led by James, of course, were engaged in a heated game of poker with colourful packages of condoms and equally colourful skittles substituting for poker chips. Trust James to initiate the gambling and drinking even when stranded in the wild.

Graham hoisted his bags onto his back and zipped his jacket, ready to go. He walked over to the men with composed poker faces and loomed over them, tapping his heavy Dwarf boot on the ground impatiently.

“Pack up, gents. We can’t lose time sitting on our arses like helpless princesses.”

James didn’t as much as move his eyes from his cards and replied in a drawl, “Don’t be such a killjoy, McTavish. No-one from the production is here to rush us, so we have time available to spend as we please until they pick us up.”

Graham leaned over the seated Irishman and muttered in his ear, “I don’t think they’ll send a helicopter any time soon, Nesbitt. We need to get a move on and find a better place to sleep in tonight.”

James scoffed. “Fuck off! We’re the main part of the Hobbit cast, plus we hold Orlando as our insurance and/or hostage. Peter can’t afford to keep up this joke forever, and he’ll worry about us soon, especially his precious Elf. He’ll pick us up in a few hours.”

“James, use your clever brain for once and stop being in denial! Peter is pissed with us for fucking with him and each other. You heard him too on the radio yesterday! He’s teaching us a lesson.” Eerily slowly, James turned his head and stared at Graham with mounting horror.

“He’s not. We’re his dwarves. He wouldn’t leave us,” James whispered with a hesitant tone and Graham pitied him so he clasped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Get the men up, and I’ll treat you all to five more skittles each. We need to get going.”

James looked down at his cards, up at Graham, then at his cards again. “Alright, I’m folding, and so are you. Come on, gents.”

All the dwarves changed into their other sets of clothes, namely their costumes; because they figured they would rather be warmed by them than carry the additional weight on their backs or in their hands. It was very amusing to see the actors without prosthetics or wigs and beards.

Aidan grew so tired of everyone cooing at his wild curls that he lifted Kili’s blue hood on the tunic over his head. Dean complained about not being able to twirl his moustaches, but brightened when he realized that the beads on his hair wouldn’t be there to hit him in the face whenever he turned too quickly.

Richard got a stern look and told them rather commandingly, “Stop being fixated with your hair. Peter shall know that _the line of Durin will not be so easily broken._ Then Richard squared his shoulders, lifted his chin and assumed a striking posture that emanated controlled fierceness. Aidan and Dean immediately shut up.

The whole group actually went silent when Graham chose to don the two axes on his back. He looked very menacing as he carried the weapons, cloak and armour, several bags, and some dry firewood and the well-shaped twigs they had used for starting a fire last night. Graham looked ready to survive a zombie apocalypse and everyone was mute in awe, except Stephen who admitted, “Someone else might have a different opinion, but for me, McTavish has just out-masculined us all.”

Graham barely let one corner of his mouth twitch before stepping up to Richard’s side and gesturing at the object in his hand. “Where’re we heading, Richard?” He was confident of his leader’s ability to lead them right. Richard cleared his throat and straightened the map he was in charge of, before he actually turned it around 180 degrees.

“I think we should go...” He was interrupted by approaching Kiwi’s.

  
Dean waved a finger at Richard and Graham. “I know this country like my own backyard. In fact, it even _looks_ like my backyard. I can totally find my way back home. We don't need the map.”

Stephen shouted at Dean, “You were asleep for the whole ride, you idiot! You didn’t see shit!”

Pink spots appeared on Dean’s cheeks, but he didn’t protest the accusation, which spoke enough. The blonde man had absolutely no idea where they were.

“I can find the way. I was a boy-scout!” Mark exclaimed and James perked up and said teasingly, “You; a scout?”

“We’re heading east,” Richard declared, and immediately received contesting response.

“You’re not confusing the studio with Erebor again, Thorin?” Jed teased and made to snatch the map from his grip.

“I am never wrong!” Richard said resentfully and lifted his arms high in the air so no-one could reach the map without physically damaging him. Some actors swore at the tall bastard whose face they weren’t allowed to hurt.

Then Jed pushed away Dean and Mark who would never reach unless Richard stooped, and said in a low voice to the Englishman, “I know only Lee is taller than you, Armitage, but we can get you to lower your arms if you force us to. Tell me; are you very fond of your balls getting kicked?”

Richard grimaced and spat, “You wouldn’t dare!”

Jed’s eyes gleamed dangerously as he slowly advanced. “You think I’m bluffing? Oh, I wouldn’t hesitate a second, honey.”

Then Graham shouldered his way into the group and shielded Richard from the onslaught of the three united Kiwi’s ganging up on him. “You’ll have to get past me first.”

“Are you threatening colleagues, Graham?” Ken muttered and came to stand at Jed’s side.

Adam pleaded with wide eyes outside the group of twelve dwarves who began choosing side and flexing muscles, “Please, can’t we all just be reasonable and get along?”

Martin also didn’t join the fight for the map either, for he sat on a stump of a tree and cursed the whole group of drama queens.

Suddenly a sharp whistle made everyone turn their heads instead of engaging in a proper brawl. Orlando had jumped up on one of the logs around their old fireplace. He might have foregone his Elven clothes which he hadn’t brought with him on this supposedly short travel, but he did brandish his camera and looked outraged.

“Is this how you teamwork? I can’t even film you, because you’re all so tragic! Fighting over petty things and complaining instead of doing something about the situation. Even I could work with my co-stars in The Lord of the Rings despite being barely older than twenty and fresh out from acting school. If you at least start trying to co-operate, I might share some advice on finding your way through the forest. Viggo taught me all about it when he and I went fishing.”

If Orlando looked less imposing than the others in his jeans and ordinary jacket, his voice and contorted face spoke the more of anger and disappointment. The actors looked down at their feet, embarrassed for belittling instead of supporting each other.

Richard folded his map and shifted the black backpack on his back. “Shall we?” he offered gently and the men sighed and began leaving the clearing.

James commented to Mark as they reached the edge of the woods, “So, a scout? Maybe it was your condoms, seeing as you’re always prepared.”

***  
 

To traverse through the thick vegetation proved to be both manageable on paths that animals had made, and very difficult other times. Luckily, their weapons came in handy and the actors found it entertaining to slash through the leaves and bushes that hid their path. The exercise, and the constant weight they carried made for an excellent work-out session and soon everyone panted slightly and had pink cheeks.

Occasionally they talked in small or larger groups, but most of the time, they let the music of nature wash over them; birdsong, the sound of the wind rustling the trees, dry roots creaking below their feet.

Richard was in the lead and he adored the landscape surrounding him. Yes, the responsibility he felt to bring back his co-actors safe and well to the production remained strong inside his head, but he also enjoyed the temporary respite from the intense filming. Graham kept up the steady but calm pace with him.

Richard glanced at the man beside him. Graham was his right hand; ready at his beck and call. The large man had already consolidated his position as the group’s expert at survival thanks to his vast knowledge in that area. Richard relied on Graham to advise him on making the right decisions where camp locations and sharing of provisions were concerned.

And Graham knew, as he brushed his shoulder against Richard’s once more, that it also was he who surreptitiously nudged Richard in the right direction of the studio. Not that Richard failed much, and the rest of the group hardly noticed or commented on it when they deviated from a previously straight course, but Graham had some orientation gift that Richard seemed to lack even when carrying the map.

Graham concluded this as he adjusted Richard’s steps slightly more north while walking beside him, like a sheepdog correcting its herd by pressing them in a different way. He wasn’t sure if Richard noticed, or if he just didn’t mind the guidance when he drifted.

***

It happened on the third day since the drop from the helicopter, and the second of their actual journey. Maybe they had relaxed too much without the constant security reminders from a filming crew. Maybe they had underestimated the dangers that lured even in a lovely forest.

They were walking on the top of a hill where brown leaves covered the area. John Callen suddenly tattered on the brink of the hill before stumbling on the ridge and disappearing from view with a surprised cry.

Everyone ran to the edge and witnessed how John was rolling down the steep hill before coming to a hasty end at the bottom. He rolled onto his back and hollered, clutching his thigh. Everyone tensed as the man crumbled on the forest floor and closed his eyes. A chilling scream followed.

“I’m hurt! My leg! Fuck, it hurts! Call for help!”

However, instead of reaching for the phone, Adam deftly pulled out the emergency kit from the important bag on Richard’s back and slid down to the injured man, joined by James who had been the first man to react and get down to John.

Once Adam knelt by John’s side, James was inspecting his body with a hard, concentrated expression on his face. Adam’s breaths came in little pants as he opened the box and hauled out a scissor to cut a hole through the trousers to reach the wound.

“Where does it hurt, John? We’ll fix this, if you tell us where you’re injured,” James instructed with a clear but concerned voice and gripped the elder man’s shoulder to comfort him. Adam noticed in his peripheral vision how the others uphill were gathering close to each other and some men already made their way down to offer their help.

John’s large eyes flitted back and forth, and then he made to sit up, but was hindered by James’ firm hold, just as Adam was reaching for the fabric of the trousers. “Steady, mate. We’re taking care of you. You can trust us,” James said in a soft, reassuring tone and Adam sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be a nasty bleeding wound beneath the yet whole fabric.

Then John coughed and his unsure expression morphed into a sheepish one. “Erm, Adam, please don’t ruin my trousers. I’m alright, really.”

James shushed him and Adam pressed his lips together in concentration, brought the scissor close, and braced himself for the possibly gory sight. At that moment, John’s knee went up and hit him in the ribs, shoving him away from the legs, and Adam dropped the scissor as he keeled over.

John wrestled with James and exclaimed with exasperation, “I’m okay, dammit! I’m not hurt, I was just hoping to fake an injury and make someone call Peter. Sorry, guys, I had to make it look real so Peter could tell you were serious when you called.”

Adam gasped as he made to get up from the muddy ground, Ken growled amongst the other dwarves, and James eyebrows lowered and he swiftly slapped John’s thigh, not getting any reaction of pain. The Irishman narrowed his eyes, and now John began to look truly guilty.

“You fucking tricked us?!” James hissed and John lifted an eyebrow.

“Duh, actor… Didn’t realize I could be that convincing, though. Not amongst other actors.”

Apparently with no remorse, James grabbed John by the tunic and shoved his back further into the muddy leaves beneath them.

“You knob head; you’ve never done your own stunts! How were we to know that you weren’t accidently tumbling down the hill?”

John looked ashamed, but emitted with a tiny smile, “Why, Jimmy, I never thought you’d be so heroic in the face of danger. I’m flattered.”

James jabbed a finger in his face, silencing him. “Don’t you dare try to sweet-talk me into forgetting the subject! What if you’d been hurt for real? Or if we don’t believe the next guy should anyone else get injured? You almost hurt Adam when you kicked him aside! Ever thought of those things? Grow up and be a colleague we can trust!”

Adam adjusted his glasses and tapped James on the arm to get his attention. “Really, I’m fine, James. Calm down.”

James glared at him, then at John again before standing up and stomping up the hill, fuming and not saying anything. Adam spared the elder actor a short but sincere smile despite John’s outrageous behaviour. “You scared him. We’re a team, a family basically, and we take care of each other. Apologize to him later.”

As Adam crept on the ground and found the scissor and wiped it off before sterilizing it and packing together the emergency kit, John got up, without help from any of the onlookers, and shuffled off in James’ direction, with slumped shoulders.

Once he was done packing, Adam grabbed the kit in one hand and planted the other on the ground to get up, but when he went, his wrist twinged painfully and one side of his ribs protested. The adrenalin coursing through his veins earlier must have numbed the pain when it was afflicted upon him after John had pushed him to the ground.

Adam grimaced and scrunched his eyes together as he stood up, and in the next second, Graham was before him, reaching for his unburdened arm with the aching wrist.

“You’re hurt,” the taller man said simply and Adam inhaled sharply at the foreign touch against his wrist, which only caused his ribs to throb and he crouched to protect them on instinct.

“Richard!” Graham bellowed before attending to Adam’s wrist, delicately turning it and guiding it in circles until Adam hissed at a searing flare of pain and Graham stopped, a frown marring his face.

“We can bandage it tight so it can recover without moving. Now, let’s take a look at those ribs."

While Richard retrieved the emergency kit from Adam and began weaving a bandage around his wrist, and a good portion of his arm for good measure, Graham’s warm hands parted the coat of Ori’s and rucked up the tunic while Adam flushed a dark shade of red and squirmed. “It’s nothing. John just gave me a nudge and I fell in a bad way. It’s my own fault, really.”

Not replying, Graham grasped his hip with one hand to hold him still (Adam froze by default at the intimate, commanding touch) and the other hand slid up under the tunic, and traced his ribs with tender fingers. Goose bumps spread across Adam’s skin, most likely from the air against his bared skin, and Richard squeezed his wrapped hand carefully to give him courage. Adam’s gaze was fixed on the circle on Graham’s chest, the one that held the leather straps that in return held the axes, during the examination.

Graham mumbled as the coarse fingers travelled from his sternum to his side, skating over his nipple by accident which made Adam inhale sharply but silently, “How’s it feel… here?”

Graham prodded blindly at a spot and Adam jerked backwards, away from the poking touch on the sore spot, but didn’t get far because of the hand on his hip. Involuntarily cringing, he released a whine he was embarrassed of and breathed sharply. “Yeah, that’s where it hurts,” he admitted, blinking away tears from his eyes and Graham suddenly carried a soft look in his eyes and looked apologetic.

“Come here lad. I’ll be very careful.”

Skittish like a deer, Adam inched closer and felt Richard touching his damp nape and starting to massage it which felt heavenly. Graham stepped nearer again and lifted the garment to have a look at the damage.

“A small bruise. Nothing too serious, but you’re not carrying anything from now on. Can you walk up the hill?”

“I’m not paralyzed in my legs!” Adam laughed with a shaky voice and smothered his tunic down and reluctantly surrendered his bags to Richard and Graham, feeling guilty for not pulling his weight and also adding to the two men’s already heavy burdens but both men ignored his weak protests and apologies.

When Adam made to return to the path above, he reached for the nearest branch to pull himself up, but keeled over and wrapped his unharmed arm around his middle, gritting his teeth. Richard strode to his side and shouted to the group nearby, “Pete! Give him your axe!”

It was tossed downhill and Richard picked it up from the leaves and gave it to Adam to use as a staff. “Let’s get back on track,” the dark-haired man suggested with a warm, but very observant expression before he followed in Adam’s wake, ready to catch him should he stumble, but the younger man made it up relatively easily thanks to Peter's weapon.

***

William bumped into Jed’s arm and muttered while giving an indicating nod at the back of Richard before them, “He’s doing it again.” As Richard led them , the actors occasionally heard him mumble things. Now, Richard was whispering to himself, “Every path you have passed through wilderness and moor, has led to this road.”

Apparently he was embracing his role, and Tolkien’s world by thinking of Aragorn; another crownless king. And somehow, having him channeling Thorin made them all feel easy; as if a simple stroll through a forest could be accomplished even if they were spoiled, urban actors.

The actors also found out that a fair share of them actually snored loudly in real life too, much to their chagrin. But in the end, they became accustomed to the sound, since it came from their family.

At length, though, Aidan got antsy. The humid air in the thick forest made his curls even wilder than usual, though everyone kept insisting that they suited him, that he looked cute. Aidan constantly dragged his hands through his hair in dismay; ready to sacrifice to the devil for some hair gel. He didn’t take the news well when a sheepish Dean admitted that he unfortunately had already used up all his gel on his own hair.

But Aidan wasn’t the only male in the group facing hair issues. In the absence of satisfying personal hygiene products, the men started growing beards, whether they wanted to or not. Moustaches tickled their lips, beards were covering their cheeks and necks, hiding their spectacular jawlines, and one or two actors quickly discovered with horror that their untrimmed hair was prone to developing epic sideburns.

On the other hand, they mostly bitched about the hair for fun, because the opportunity to not have hot, itchy yak hair glued to their face or braid beads hitting them in the face was welcomed by all. Graham’s Swiss army knife was useful for cutting and trimming some of the hair.

However, the youngest men (fair-haired Dean and Adam, along with Aidan) received remarks about being baby dwarrows because of their sparse stubble even after a few days in the wilderness.

***

One late evening, instead of sleeping, Richard found himself pacing in circles around the camp, guarding his friends who depended on someone watching out for them in the wilderness.

The trust but also responsibility suddenly seemed to rest heavily on Richard’s shoulders, and he could easily identify with Thorin’s concern for his Company; the last hope to reclaim their home. And so, he chose to stay in character. It made it easier to lead instead of being a shy, unsure, and unassuming man, Richard thought.

A presence suddenly created an unexpected sound behind him and Richard whirled around, hand going for the hilt of Orcrist, but then he remembered that he had left the sword by his cloak on the ground.

A faint chuckle interrupted his sharp inhale. “Good evening, Richard.”

Orlando. Stupid Elf-man sneaking up behind him in the late hours and giving him a heart attack!

Tersely, Richard replied, “Go back to bed.”

Orlando flashed him a row of white teeth in the darkness and folded his arms. “You should get some sleep, as well.”

Richard grunted in a non-committing way and resumed his pacing, not waiting for Orlando to fall into his steps, but the blasted man did anyway. “Richard, you have taken upon yourself to be our clever leader now, but even you can’t go on like this forever without allowing yourself some resting.”

Richard pursed his lips. “Someone needs to keep watch. I can manage without sleep. I won’t let the others down, or let the mission fail.”

Orlando lifted his head and his piercingly brown eyes, absent the blue contacts, swept over the sky above them between the branches of the trees. “The stars are veiled.”

Richard kicked a large pebble out of the fool’s way, for he seemed too captivated by the clouds above to care about where he was walking. “That isn’t some of that Elf crap, is it?” God, Richard missed his Khuzdul lessons! To get some stimulation for his brain instead of fighting for basic survival. Orlando looked at him and tilted his head in a way that eerily reminded him of Lee in action.

“One of my lines from The Return of the King, actually. It’s just that… sometimes I think that the true stars are not the ones twinkling up there. People can be stars, if you know what I mean.”

One edge of Richard’s mouth twitched upwards in amusement at the stuttering and philosophical man at his side.

Feeling bad for his earlier gruffness and wanting to make up for it, he emitted gently while searching his mind to get the facts right, “Tolkien named many of your kin after stars or shining light. Arwen Undomiél, Galadriel… Gil-galad; the Star of bright light.”

Orlando looked interested in what he said, so Richard continued while slowing his steps to better suit the words he spoke.

“Gil-galad; the last High King of Noldor, who succumbed in Mordor at the hands of Sauron himself, in the middle of the battle that ended with Prince Isilidur cutting the One Ring from Sauron’s finger. Gil-galad fought alongside Elrond in Peter’s adaption, and he also carried one of the great three Elven Rings. That Elf fought ferociously even when surrounded by foes far within the enemy’s dark realm. I admire him.”

Orlando blinked but didn’t look like he thought Richard was weird or funny for knowing all this, so Richard began reciting the fitting beginning and end of a poem by Tolkien he had learned by heart, and gazed up at the cloudy ceiling, willing stars to shine comfortingly at the camp.

“Gil-galad was an Elven-king

Of him the harpers sadly sing

The countless stars of heaven's field

Were mirrored in his silver shield

But long ago he rode away

And where he dwelleth none can say

For into darkness fell his star

In Mordor, where the shadows are"

Richard, a bit self-consciously, ducked his head down as the last note died out, and didn’t see Orlando’s moved expression.

“That’s amazing. _You’re_ amazing, Richard.”

“The credit goes to the maestro; Tolkien,” Richard deflected the compliment before scratching his nape. “Aye, there are stars walking amongst us. Now, return to your place and get some sleep.”

He patted Orlando on the back and the man actually obeyed him, but not without whispering over his shoulder, “You know, Peter told me when I arrived for The Hobbit that he never doubted you for a second. You embody Thorin Oakenshield; the brave King Under the Mountain.”

It wasn’t until later when the distant sounds from Orlando had disappeared, that Richard became aware of how his eyes burned from unshed tears. Tears for Thorin, tears for the fierce confidence in him everyone seemed to have even when he doubted himself, and tears for the friends who still let him be their leader in the forest until Peter reclaimed the title of boss.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And suddenly I see quotes from Richard that totally suit my RPF character... "I was never really sure if I could pull this role off; I felt secretly that many others also felt the same and it’s one of the reasons I could never sit down on set (I am a pacer, apparently). I could never rest.” - Richard Armitage
> 
> Also: why is it that my last scenes in this humorous story always turn heartbreakingly sweet/bordering on angsty?
> 
> Hang in there for the final chapter, though! It will contain feet, games, and skittles everywhere. ;)


	3. Games, team work, and coming home

Martin Freeman was angry.

In fact, he had been angry for the whole five days the cast had been out in the woods. But he was particularly, epically enraged right now.

His feet hurt like a bitch from walking mile after mile in regular shoes. Albeit they were more comfortable than the hobbit feet, they weren’t really made for hiking like the sturdy leather boots of the dwarves.

Martin was lagging and he hated being the last guy in the row. He was the main fucking star of the movie and yet he was treated like an unimportant Halfling that no-one really noticed. He also resented the other men for behaving like children earlier on set; thus evoking Peter Jackson’s vengeance. All in all, this experience was a nightmare for the man who was used to certain accommodations such as regular meals, showers, and indoor activities.

Martin stepped on a protruding root, regretted it the second he felt another sting somewhere at his throbbing toes, and reassumed his limping. Unexpectedly, he walked straight into William’s back.

“For fuck’s sake; out of my way!” Martin growled moodily and looked up to see that the distance between William and the rest of the men had grown.

William sidestepped him and began walking along Martin, flashing him a smirk. “You okay there, love?”

Martin stomped on the ground and hissed back, “My feet hurt, so if you’re here to gloat or pity me; I’ll punch you. Just be grateful for your fantastic boots, dwarf!”

William’s expression changed into an apologetic one. “I didn’t know… I’ll tell Richard to ease up on the speed. We can take a break soon.”

That concern however made Martin widen his eyes and he grabbed William’s sleeve and tugged him close. “You’re sure he wouldn’t mind slowing down just because of me?”

Of course Richard wouldn’t, the confident part of the hobbit actor said, but another part acknowledged his reluctance at being a liability.

William chuckled softly. “Martin, you are our friend. We value your well-being before the current walking pace. I’ll speak to him. You can stop here.”

Grateful for the break, Martin halted on the spot and squirmed at the unpleasant feeling in his shoes as William hurried off to the leaders ahead to inform them of the need for an emergency break.

Some minutes later, while most of the actors made good use of the break by relieving themselves against trees, Martin found himself seated on a log with William kneeling before him and Richard standing close.

Once Martin had untied and removed his shoes, the state of his feet was revealed. William apparently felt no resentment towards another man’s feet, for he reached out and grasped Martin’s left one, fingers pressing into the wet sock.

“Your socks are soaked!” he exclaimed and Martin suppressed a groan from mixed pleasure and pain as the clever fingers dug into his tender limb.  Richard clicked his tongue sourly.

“A few more hours of walking and you wouldn’t be able to walk anymore. What were you thinking, Martin? You could have delayed the whole company just because you didn’t say anything!”

Martin glared up at the tall bastard. “It wasn’t as if I planned on getting aching feet from hiking in the wild because you fools disturbed PJ!”

Richard’s eyebrows lowered menacingly, but he didn’t reply. Instead, the dwarf crouched and splayed a hand on William’s back. “How’s it looking, Will?”

William sighed as he carefully removed Martin’s socks and examined the feet. “I recommend immediate change of socks. Let him borrow the extra pair from Orlando. Unfortunately, none of us has as small feet as Martin, so we can’t trade shoes for boots…”

Martin testily replied, “I have perfectly proportioned feet that doesn’t look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon, unlike other people here! Hell, some of you guys could enter as the Hobbit Team in the Boat Race against Oxford and Cambridge and you wouldn’t need any equipment! Just use your feet at oars and Graham’s left boot as a boat!”

Peter who had overheard the charged conversation strolled over and winced at the gory sight. “Oh, Martin! Your poor feet. I can see a blister from way over here. Hang on. Is that the beginning of fungus at your pinky toe?”

Martin gasped and more or less kicked William aside as he forgot to be nasty, and instead pulled his leg up to inspect the skin. Richard rolled his eyes and leaned towards Peter.

“Was that really necessary? He’s suffering as it is without you coming here and terrorizing him.”

Peter recoiled from the intense, blue gaze that could bedazzle people, but also pierce into antagonists. Peter relented from his teasing and pity, and awkwardly addressed Martin again who was receiving a massage from William to the taut muscle on the vulnerable sole. “I’ll go and check the emergency kit. Maybe there’re plasters for the toes.”

While Peter was strolling off, and William concentrated on applying pressure to the battered feet, Martin and Richard’s eyes strayed to each other. Richard’s expression softened and he asked with anxiety creeping into the edge of his voice, “Is it okay? Otherwise we’ll find a solution to get you to the studio without more pain.”

Taken aback by the consideration towards every member of the group, even an angry hobbit actor, Martin answered, “I’ve been through worse. I think I can limp some more hours today before setting camp and resting.”

“Excellent,” Richard exclaimed with relief and spared him one of his charming smiles.

***

In the camp that afternoon, Jed wanted to read desperately. William’s worn novel had moved back and forth between the men and now Jed reached for it while Mark was meticulously immersed in the fate of David Copperfield as he lay on his bedroll made of a thick cloak.

“Time’s up. I want to read it now,” Jed told the other actor but Mark parried his advances and sneaky hands with agitated slaps.

“Stop it, Jed! You’ve read it twice already. It’s still my first go at it. Now, for the love of Peter Jackson, just let me enjoy this lovely book.”

Jed’s eyes lit up. “So you’re not even at the murder of David? I can tell you who done it. It was Clara.”

Mark bristled and slammed the book shut and all but tossed it at Jed.

“You bastard!” he exclaimed vehemently and stormed off while Jed was concealing a pleased grin and muttered at Graham who was seated nearby, “When do you reckon Mark will understand that I made up that plot twist just now?”

Graham sighed heavily and continued to absently pet Adam’s head as the young man napped beside him, head on his own fluffy pillow, glasses askew, and bandaged wrist resting on his belly. The actors had been adamant on nursing Adam’s injury, so for now, Richard’s resistance band was used as a makeshift sling that kept the wrist near Adam’s body.

After contemplating the question, Graham muttered, “Bet you five quid for three days of ignorance, if no-one intervenes before.”

“Deal.”

***

As they wandered on the narrow path the next day, James broke the boredom by involving all of them in a game of truth or dare. He started by targeting his fellow countryman.

“So… Aidan! Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Aidan said with an excited and unsuspecting smile. James grinned predatorily.

“D’ya prefer ladies’ nipples to point upwards or straight or downwards?”

Graham lowered his bushy brows and glared disapprovingly at the chuckling James while Aidan flustered.

“You don’t have to answer,” Dean told him, which unfortunately only served to make Aidan more defensive.

“I can decide that for myself, Mr. O’Gorman. Uhm… either way is fine by me. Breasts are nice.”

“Booo, you’re so boring!” James exclaimed and Aidan rolled his eyes before looking around him, noticing how some men seemed to duck or turn their heads away in order to avoid getting picked. “Well, that’s the truth, anyway. Now, Dean?”

“I knew it. Dare,” Dean commented and punched Aidan lightly on the arm.

“Cheer us up with a song. Sing Genie In A Bottle.”

Dean groaned and his head fell forward, pleading eyes turned towards Aidan. “Do I have to? You know I can’t sing. I’ll ruin it.”

Truth to be told; the whole main cast, consisting of men, had adopted Graham’s habit to hum catchy (and not necessarily sung by men) songs from the 90’s.

“Look on the bright side; it’s your turn to ask the next person.”

The blonde man sighed and began singing with gritted teeth, but couldn’t prevent the way his hips began wriggling to Christina Aguilera’s melody. “ _If you want to be with me, baby, there's a price to pay. I'm a genie in a bottle. You gotta rub me the right way_.”

Ken waved a hand enthusiastically and called, “I volunteer to rub you the right way, Deano!”

“Come on, guys,” Dean moaned and his cheeks soon matched Aidan’s. As the laughs died out however, Dean hoisted the pack higher on his back and spotted a broad set of shoulders before him.

“Oi! Richard!”

“Oh, no.”

“Stay positive, Richie!” Stephen chuckled.

“Truth then, if I have to.”

“What does your voice sound like…”

John muttered as Dean paused for dramatic effect, “Don’t say during sex, don’t say during sex, don’t say during….”

“…when you’ve breathed helium?” Everyone began to laugh while Richard looked surprised, and then pensive. Stephen said, “He’ll still destroy subwoofers!”

When they calmed down, Richard answered. ”I’ve never tried. I might sound like a very testosterone filled chipmunk?” he offered in a contemplating tone. Aidan literally piped up and said in a squeaky voice, “ _This is my mountain and I will kill anyone who dare stand in my way to my gold!_ Not so kingly, uncle. _”_ Richard shared a suffering look with Graham who patted him on the back, feeling with him.

“When’s it lunch break?” Stephen wondered after some minutes and then a heated argument followed concerning their sparse provisions. Graham sternly informed them that they wouldn’t be starving for real until after a week of malnutrition, and that they all had to accept their small shares even if they weren’t enough to make anyone not hungry. A statement which only served to terrify them all, especially those amongst the cast who didn’t have much body fat.

As the hours passed without a meal, Dean turned whiny and stomped his feet on the path in an exaggerated way and Aidan just slumped like a wilting flower and lost his grin. Martin began to acidly freaking everyone out by emitting in a sinister tone how he wouldn’t hesitate on eating any of them if it came down to that. The dwarves chose to assume that their hobbit was just a bit grouchy when hungry, and still pissed with them for getting them all into this involuntary holiday.

In the end, the lost group came up with inventive ways of using skittles. Aidan’s candy stash seemed to be everlasting.

The actors boiled water, dropped the sweets in it, and stirred until the things had melted and mixed with the water; thus creating a substitute for sweetened tea. But even so, their supply of chocolate bars, sweets, and cookies ran low when a good five days had passed in the wilderness.

The last, brown banana was cut into fifteen slices on which William meticulously poured melted, fruity skittle mousse. He sprinkled some of Peter’s crumbled vitamins on top as decoration. He happily proclaimed them to be cakes.

Martin swore at him but wolfed down his snack nevertheless, cringing at the almost bad fruit.

Though, Orlando proved to be resourceful and found some edible things provided by nature. He collected broad grass and used it as wrapping around skittles; thus making some sort of sushi. Mark carved his own eating sticks to honour the meal, which earned him another quip from James about being a jolly good boy scout, accompanied with waggling eyebrows. Naturally, Mark snapped back, “For God’s sake; it wasn’t my string of condoms!”

***

Aidan’s eyes fluttered open on the sixth morning when the sky was still dark. A twig dug into his hip but there was something else that had disturbed his sleep.

“Oh, bugger!”

Everything was soaked through and icy raindrops fell on his exposed hands and face which had numbed. Aidan squeezed his eyes shut in defiance to the mocking clouds and rolled onto his side so he bumped into Dean who awakened too and could share his misery. Dean turned his head to the Irishman and smiled before realizing in what state they were in.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing,” Dean breathed and Aidan let out a tiny whimper in relief that he wasn’t the only one being cold. The dark-haired man pulled his wet sleeves over his hands and wrapped them around himself while greedily seeking out what warmth Dean could provide despite the rain.

Dean, ever the optimist, laughed as his alert eyes noted something above Aidan’s head. “Hey Aid, at least your hair looks straighter and cleaner now.”

While barely concealing a grin, Aidan pouted and a shudder went through him. “I’m cold, Dean.” Then the internal dam broke. “I don’t want it to rain on me! I don’t want to be in the woods anymore. I hate it that I’m so hungry all the time. I’m even getting tired of skittles! I need coffee! I want to go home.”

He burrowed his head into Dean’s neck and moaned heartbreakingly while the Kiwi swore at the icy nose tip he felt.

“Come on, mate; we’re the Durins. We’re sturdier and hardier than breaking down at some damn downpour.”

Aidan’s sob turned into a giggle as he lay pressed to Dean’s body and Dean frowned at him in bewilderment. “You said harder. Are you hard, Dean?”

“I said _hardier_. As in hardy and enduring. Enduring Durins.”

“No. You said we were harder. That’s funny,” Aidan smiled and watched Dean huff and begin to sit up to prepare for a day. But Aidan didn’t feel as moody as before.

It turned out that even though the entire cast had drenched clothes, some things resisted the water. Their woolen cloaks and thicker tunics which had served as bedrolls proved to be fairly dry since they had covered them with their sleeping bodies, so everyone swept the garments around themselves and tugged on the tunics.

It was collectively decided that Orlando, seeing as he hadn’t been equipped with a costume, deserved the entire extra set of clothes that had rested protected in Richard’s black backpack.

Adam dug into the emergency kit and gave all of them one roll each of bandages to use however they wanted as one more dry layer on their bodies.

Ken happily declared to everyone that he no longer wore underwear because he refused to get chafed by damp shorts. In response, no-one stared particularly intensely at his crotch, but Graham was roaring with laughter at the thought of Ken being the first guy to go commando in the wild. The men kept up the humor even as the heavy rain prickled their faces.

Richard barked at them to start moving to work up their warmth and the actors trudged off in a group.

Gradually, as the path broadened, they found that it was easy to walk as a group rather than on a line, which also made conversing more possible. They might not have been a merry sight (drenched actors rarely were, except in choreographed perfume commercials), but they chattered and observed the others, looking for signs of beginning colds.

Therefore the ultra-protective, bordering on obsessive, men more or less pounced on the non-suspecting Aidan, Dean, Adam, and Orlando and manhandled them into the middle of the group. Stephen explained to them that it was a tactic used by penguins when they wanted to preserve heat and keep the youngsters safe during storms. Given that the four younger, thinner men were the dwarflings and elflings in the movie, they needed to be surrounded with heat.

Orlando’s teeth clattered and though he didn’t made to fight his way out, he did mutter, “I’m a dad for God’s sake! I’m not some orphan kid.”

Adam however looked very content as he fiddled with Ori’s mittens and enjoyed the effective human radiator around him. Dean made good use of the proximity by repeatedly tickling Aidan’s belly until Richard had enough of the silly giggles and squirming body beside him and lashed out on them with a broodiness that was becoming one Thorin Oakenshield.

Thankfully, a warm, bright sun broke through the clouds at length and the actors reveled in the opportunity to dry their clothes on branches and bushes near their current camping sight.

Orlando noticed that all the other men had stopped stinking of old sweat; all grime washed away by the heavy rain. Then he spotted a half-naked Richard Armitage who was busy hanging his many tops and tunics and coats on a smaller tree.

Orlando swallowed the instant jealousy at the man’s athletic shape. Even though Orlando had taken care of himself as every actor often did, he lacked the bulging muscles that Richard seemed to have in abundance.

Orlando politely averted his eyes from the man who was unaware of his stare. He acknowledged that he had stayed pretty trim and slender even when being a dad, and an elf should hardly exhibit massive, thick muscles. Though, Orlando liked that the old archery muscles were becoming prominent again on his arms, and he would like to compare size with Aidan soon. But it was undeniably an impressive sight he was being treated to now, as he ventured another glance.

Richard moved with graceful intent; whether it was an unconscious move or not, Orlando couldn’t tell. When Richard stretched his arms high above his head to fling Thorin’s fur coat on the highest branches, his flexing back gleamed in the sunlight and a soft breeze made the soft, dark tendrils on the back of his head wave.

Orlando swore to himself at the pure male beauty and realized that he should definitely catch this on camera. Too bad the sensitive device currently rested in the backpack at his feet. The moment would pass before Orlando managed to get it out. He knew he was lucky to get to experience this anyway; many people would surely be ready to sacrifice their firstborn for the chance to see the glorious and magnificent Richard in flagrante. So he retreated to the shadows beneath a large tree to sneakily look at Richard until he dressed again.

***

It was the seventh day. One miserable, memorable week they had spent in the wild.

They were almost out on food.

Aidan was refusing to eat more skittles and a frazzled Richard threatened to send Graham to force-feed him if he kept up the stupidity.

Meanwhile, Jed used the unguarded moment when Richard was distracted to steal the map and then he hollered in joy, “We’re close! The studio is just over some hills!”

Richard stalked over to him and snatched the map back, and then he turned to address all of the suddenly hopeful men.

“I.”

Mark frowned at the leader. “I, what?” he asked and Richard rolled his eyes.

“Not I; _aye_. As in aye, I have led you home.”

A broad smile bloomed out on Richard’s face then and everyone began to smile as well, clapping each other on the back, and doing a happy dance. James however leered suggestively at the bashful but joyful leader.

“Really? We’re home? To think I missed the moment when we walked through oceans to reach Britain and Ireland…”

Graham smacked him on the head for his rude sarcasm but Richard had ducked his head down and mumbled, “I’m sorry; I meant the studio in Wellington. I don’t know why I called it home…”

Stephen was already on his way up the first hill and Adam called with a concerned tone, “Stephen, wait! You could get lost! We still need to stick together as a group.”

Stephen made a beckoning motion with his arms at the rest of the actors. “Come on then! One last effort, and then we can enjoy steaming food, showers, and proper beds.”

And everyone started to run after him. They ran like dwarves, if not in style so at least in terms of explosive legwork saved for short distances. Their bags, cloaks, and belts rattled and bounced but the actors kept going. Orlando with his long legs and relatively unburdened body reached the top of the third hill first.

“I can see Wellington! We’re at the back of the trailer park! And there’s the fence!”

Everyone sprinted and sweat broke out on their foreheads but their goal was within reach. John stumbled and James shot out a hand to steady him while still jogging, Martin was grinning even as he limped a little, Richard let out a battle cry, and Dean encouraged Aidan with supportive words to not give up when they were so near the finish line.

The exhausted but now unstoppable men ran along the barbed fence that protected the trailer area, and then they rounded the last corner and reached the front gates which were open. And in the middle of the road stood Peter Jackson.

He widened his eyes at the sight of fifteen lumberjacks with beards, sideburns, and thick clothes coming to a clumsy halt before him. The actors panted and Peter scanned his sharp gaze over his investments. None looked too worse for wear. in fact, they all grinned and gasped with healthy colour on their cheeks. Peter put his hands on his hips and spoke to them in a loud voice.

“You actually made it, guys.” His tone implied his pride. Some of the crew emerged from behind the gate and mingled with the actors in order to relieve them of their bags.

Peter said, “I’m mighty impressed by you walking back here within a week. I supervised the achievement each day on the GPS technology, so I’ve seen through dots on a map what you’ve accomplished. You, gentlemen, are very fast amateur hikers. You’ve walked along the edge of high hills, kept a straight route, endured rain and limited resources. And not once did you make an emergency call. I take it you all found ways to cope with the situation, and perhaps even grow in terms of team work and trust. I’m so pleased with you right now.”

“Missed us?” Aidan asked eagerly and Peter laughed.

“As a matter of fact; I have. Though I’ve had time to rest a bit and bond with the rest of the cast. But I think it’s safe to say that everyone thought this place was emptier without our burly, boisterous dwarves and hobbit.”

Martin looked content at getting a specific mentioning by the director and he puffed his little chest out. Peter threw his hands out. “All in all; you passed the test and rebuilt the important bond between you that I want to be noticeable on screen. You are individuals, but you are also belonging to a Company on a dangerous quest and so, it’s vital that you help each other along the way. To see that you made it through the wilderness…”

Dean added under his breath in a singsong voice, “Somehow I made it through.”

And then Aidan interjected with jerky hand movements even if he still panted from the sprint, “Like a virgin… Hey! Touched for the very first time…”

“…proves that my coup went well. Your dinner in the mess tent will be prepared by our excellent cooks and catering crew. I’ve seen to have someone providing clean towels and starched sheets in your trailers. Also, you’ll have the day off tomorrow in order to recover properly and get examined by our loyal care unit. I imagine you have some low levels,” Peter finished and the other Peter amongst the actors exclaimed, “I’m dying for some carbohydrates and protein! Give me mashed potatoes and a steak, please.”

“Done,” Peter easily promised and everyone became even happier when they figured they could order pretty much whatever they wanted from the cooks.

Then James asked Peter urgently, “Any messages for me? Letters, e-mails, posters, fan mail, inquiring journalists?”

Peter frowned in confusion for a moment before brightening. “Yes; you got one postcard from your family. I haven’t read it but from the front picture of an idyllic beach, I take it they’re enjoying a holiday in the tropics.”

James stared at him with disbelief. “One lousy postcard from my family after a week with no contact from my part? And nothing from my fans?!”

The dwarf cast coughed and shuffled their feet at the painful sight of James’ pride taking a hard blow. But Orlando and Martin couldn’t suppress their chuckles. Eventually, Richard stepped up to the disappointed actor and clapped him on the shoulder while muttering in a deep voice, “At least we know your worth, multi-award winning James Nesbitt. You were a hero out there when it mattered.”

James looked down at his muddy boot and scratched his neck in honest bashfulness. Peter’s attention zoomed in on one of his lead actors and he eyed Richard with a puzzled expression.

“Tell me, why is Richard using his Thorin voice now?” he asked those around him and Aidan explained with a grin, “Peter, you know our prosthetics that has to be applied and taken off each day? Well, it turns out that from now on, you might take Richard out of Thorin in make-up department in the mornings, but you can’t really take Thorin out of Richard!”

Maybe the actors should have been angry with Peter for leaving them in the forest, but they had realized that before the trip, they had been pretty annoying, and the enforced holiday had been educational. They could work as a solid unit again.

As the actors began to drift through the gates but before they truly spread out, Peter whistled sharply to get everyone’s attention. Peter boomed over the crowd and pumped his fists in the air, “Are you all with me? Shall we continue to make the most brilliant movie together?”

Everyone cheered and shouted their support, and the whole bonding ceremony (including the week-long abandonment in the forest) ended with Peter directing all of them to gather close before Orlando’s camera, sling arms around shoulders, and jump up in the air like the cast in a teenage show in the 80’s.

Some people might have considered it cheesy, but to the Hobbit cast and crew; this was hilarious and perfect.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to make it clear that I made up the thing about the edible grass. I tried to find facts about edible wild plants in New Zealand but didn't find anything clear. So accept my imagination here, please. And that's it, folks! I hope you enjoyed this little voyage and thought it humorous. Don't be afraid to show your thoughts by commenting ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this first chapter! The next should be up soon, and it will contain more hiking drama, and team building as well as hints towards romance... I wouldn't be against comment or kudos, you know. :)


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